


Black - the colour of my skates

by veryanossiel



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Parents, Courf is modelled after Chris and I'm not sorry, Feuilly represents Poland, Grantaire's parents are basically shit, Javert is a Russian judge, M/M, References to the brick to be expected, Revolution on ice, Valjean and Javert used to be greatest rivals, Yuri on Ice AU, because he wants JUSTICE, figure skating, figure skating AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:00:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24597157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veryanossiel/pseuds/veryanossiel
Summary: Grantaire has always been inspired by his idol Enjolras representing France. When Enjolras starts to think that him being undefeated for years might bore people, which would lead to the power of the messages he tries to convey both through skating and in interviews diminish, he decides to find an heir. What he doesn't expect is that the Italian skater he has judged to be as devoted to fighting for noble causes is actually the biggest skeptic on the planet, especially good at doubting himself.Yes, that is a 'Yuri On Ice' AU, duh.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Kudos: 7





	1. Waltz Jump

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I am aware that Enjolras is supposed to be a surname. Still, I like it a lot as a first name, and I think Leblanc fits Enj, so bear with me, his name is Enjolras Leblanc.  
> Trigger warning! Homophobia and Francophobia are mentioned. If you are uncomfortable with reading that, avoid everything Grantaire's father says (search for father/Mr)

Enjolras Leblanc never failed to surprise his audience. Each of his programs, apart from his nearly flawless technique, were characterized by conveying some message. There was something so captivating in them that they made people believe he could change the world simply by skating. Grantaire was never quite one of them, and yet he was sure that nobody could ever admire Enjolras as much, as he did. Grantaire knew the world could never truly be changed, it would always remain an awful and unjust place but seeing Enjolras’ passion was inspiring nonetheless. True, it didn’t make Grantaire believe, but it made him desperately want to.

Ever since he first saw Enjolras’ performance, something in him changed. From a mediocre novice, he began to achieve top results in local competitions and Italian nationals. He took silver at two Junior Grand Prix events the year after Enjolras went to seniors and bronze at the final, as well as at the Junior Worlds. His dream of skating on the same ice as his idol kept him going. Nevertheless, the next year when after ranking third at the Cup of China and not making the podium at Skate Canada, he didn’t qualify for the Grand Prix Final. That was why the first time he skated against Enjolras was late in the season, at the Europeans. Enjolras wasn’t probably even watching. Still, Grantaire felt as if he made a fool of himself by coming in twelfth. His next two seasons weren’t any better. Although he did qualify for the last Grand Prix Final, he came in last, and the gap in points between the 6th and the 5th place wasn’t small. Each failure made his motivation fall. He still skated at the international level, but he was sure that didn’t make him anything special anyway. Italy, despite its figure skating history, did not have many good skaters at the moment, which must have been why Grantaire wasn’t replaced. Somewhere along the line, his drinking problems begun. He waited for the day when alcohol ruins his physique enough to take him away from the ice. He dreaded it. Still, he was sure it would arrive.

Grantaire was at his local ring alone. The season was long over, and he was preparing for one show or another. It hardly mattered to him. He was listening to some playlist inspired by Enjolras which he found on the internet when one song caught his attention. He’s never heard that one before. ‘Gray skies and light fading,’ well, he could sure relate to that. The line sounded as if some poet tried to describe his skating career. ‘Headlamps making patterns on the wall,’ that reminded him of Enjolras and the influence the light he shone had on the world. ‘Each one lining up to take him home,’ that one hardly needed any interpretation. ‘They pray no one has to see them fall,’ well, that’s about each and every figure skater, Grantaire thought. ‘The one with the empty-looking eyes/Come closer, you’ll see me/The face that is used to telling lies,’ that was about him again. On the ice, he was always acting, pretending, hiding behind his smiles and dramatic expressions, while inside, he felt empty. When the refrain began, he knew the song was just right. ‘Take me, take me to the riot,’ that riot was Enjolras, his each and every program, his every word at press conferences and interviews. The song was perfect. Grantaire checked the title, it was named after that line, ‘Take Me to the Riot,’ and was by Stars. He suddenly knew that none of his past programs would be as good for the show as something he could create for this music. He began to think.

When the lights at the ice rink in Japan began to fade and Grantaire let go of his final pose, a French skater sitting in front of a TV immersed himself in thought. At 22 he was at the peak of his career. The thing is, he hasn’t left that peak for the past five years. Undefeated internationally for far too long, he was getting tired. He suspected that it was only a matter of time until the world got tired of him as well. Soon, people would get bored of his programs, and the messages he tried to convey would become less and less appealing to them. Maybe the time to pass on, his legacy was near. Maybe the time was now.  
Coach Lamarque was outraged at the idea.

‘You’ll send me to an early grave, kid!’ he yelled, ‘and after I die I bet you will use my funeral to organize another riot or rebellion or whatever!’  
Still, he was far too good a person to refuse, when Enjolras asked for contact information to Gros, the coach of Grantaire’s.

That was how Grantaire almost pissed his pants after receiving a call from an unknown number. He knew the voice on the speaker far too well to believe it could be anybody else. Still, it felt like the universe was toying with him by making the very first interaction between him and his idol/inspiration/crush Enjolras inviting him to lunch to ‘discuss some business.’

Grantaire could not believe that his favourite skater, the one he loved ever since he could remember (and thanks to whom he discovered his sexual orientation, although that part was not meant for anyone to know) would travel all the way to some Italian shithole to meet up with him, and yet there he was, standing in front of Grantaire’s favourite pizza place. He wasn’t the biggest fan of pizza, in all honesty not nearly as many Italians as the rest of the world probably imagined were. Still, it was obvious that the local pizzeria was the best place to take a foreigner to.

‘It is very nice to meet you,’ Enjolras extended his hand, ‘my name is Enjolras Leblanc.’  
‘Yes, I’m aware,’ muttered the other man awkwardly, shaking his hand, ‘I mean I’m Grantaire.’  
Enjolras smiled and opened the door for them. After ordering his pizza marinara, the only vegan dish on the menu, he got right to business.  
‘I have seen your last performance at Stars on Ice.’  
Grantaire nodded, rather terrified. Was Enjolras here to express his overwhelming disapproval of desecrating a piece from a playlist dedicated to him? The man, however, continued.  
‘I liked it a lot. It seems like we have something in common. I try to cause people to reflect in my every program, and you seem to be doing the same. I’ve gone through your last couple of programs.’  
At this point, Grantaire was barely conscious of terror.  
‘I really liked “Starry, Starry Night,” a really beautiful tribute, especially since you’re an artist.’  
‘So you know that?’ Grantaire’s voice was weak.  
‘I’ve done my research. Also “On My Own,” that one was excellent. You must have made the whole audience feel that pain of loneliness. I’ve only associated this song with Marius and Eponine of Russia, but you truly made it your own. Oh, look, that was almost a pun!’  
Grantaire laughed faintly.  
‘Anyway,’ Enjolras kept speaking, he always spoke a lot, almost as much, as Grantaire did when he was drunk and around people he felt comfortable with, ‘You have amazing expression, you remind me of Valjean.’

Now he had got to be kidding. Comparing such mediocrity as Grantaire to the French legend Jean Valjean was a blasphemy. Just as everyone, maybe apart from Javert of Russia and his devoted fans, he admired Valjean. Not only was he one of the best skaters of all time, but he was also one of the kindest people on the planet. He appeared at many competitions, as he was coaching his daughter Cosette and a bunch of juniors, and each time he did his best to support and encourage other skaters, even those competing against Cosette. When Enjolras broke his record for the free program, he literally cried tears of joy and hugged him for what felt like an hour. Yes, they were both representing the same country, but everybody knew it was not just that. Valjean was the ultimate Skating Dad, that was certain. How could such a bitter and ungifted person as Grantaire be compared to that king?  
Grantaire must have been silent for too long because when he looked up, Enjolras’ expression was strange.  
‘Oh, I’m so sorry, you must be so confused why I’m here!’ he exclaimed after a while, ‘the thing is, I’m thinking of retiring.’  
Grantaire was so shocked he jumped on his chair.  
‘What?!’ first of all, Enjolras couldn’t just do that! He was at his prime, he was the reigning champion of almost every competition there was, that is, of all he took part last season. He held all three world records: for a short program, for a free skate, and the total result. Second of all, why the hell would he go and announce it to Grantaire of all people? Was he, apart from his other amazing abilities, also able to read minds and knew who his biggest fan was?  
‘There’s not much I can accomplish anymore,’ said Enjolras matter-of-factly, ‘people are getting bored.’  
‘No, they aren’t!’ screamed Grantaire. That was probably way too loud because everyone in the restaurant was suddenly looking at him.  
‘Well, they will be, eventually,’ said Enjolras. In his voice, there was no resignation, no sadness, as if he wasn’t even upset about what he just said.  
‘That is why I’ve decided that I want to find a successor. A person I could coach, someone that would carry on my message. That is why I came here.’  
‘I don’t understand…’ muttered Grantaire. His suspicions could not possibly be true.  
‘I want to ask you if you would like to be my trainee.’  
Grantaire’s eyes widened to the size of the pizzas the waiter just put on their table.  
‘Grazie!’ said Enjolras cheerfully.  
‘So?’ he turned to Grantaire, ‘What do you say?’  
‘You can’t be serious,’ responded he.  
‘Oh, I’m so stupid!’ now Enjolras sounded genuinely upset with himself, ‘Of course that’s not a decision you can make on the spot. You have a coach after all, and I just come here and ask you to leave him, I’m so sorry. I would just like you to consider the offer.’  
‘No, no,’ Grantaire’s voice was suddenly determined, ‘I accept it.’  
Enjolras smiled.  
‘In this case, I’ll have some papers for you to sign. You know, the contract, all that stuff. I have already prepared it all, so don’t worry, I have it with me. Take the papers home, read through them and let me know if you are willing to accept the offer officially.’  
‘No matter what you’ve written there,’ Grantaire said with a smile, ‘the offer is accepted.’  
Enjolras raised his eyebrows, but his smile didn’t fade.  
‘In this case, I’ll have to look for a flat. You can’t really live in a hotel, can you?’  
‘Actually, we have a guest room we never use. My father hates people way too much to ever invite anybody over, let alone to stay the night.’  
‘You’re inviting me to live with you?’  
‘No, I mean, of course, you don’t have to. It was just a stupid idea. I didn’t mean to offend you.’  
‘Why, you didn’t offend me.’  
‘Yeah, I just felt bad about you wasting money on rent but let’s forget that.’  
‘Actually, I would gladly move in.’  
‘Really? Wow. I’ve got to tell my parents then. I’m sure they won’t care anyway, but you know…’  
‘Of course, you have to ask them. Why would they not care if a stranger moves to their house?’  
‘You’ll understand when you meet them.’

When Grantaire got home, his mother faked a non-convincing smile, and his father looked at him with pure irritation. Grantaire sighed.  
‘So um.. my skating idol sort of came here to coach me,’ he said, ‘he stays at a hotel, so I wanted to ask if we can like um... let him stay in the guest room?’  
‘You already have a coach, honey,’ remarked his mother dryly.  
‘You found yourself another dumb ice faggot?’ asked the father scornfully.  
‘I’m leaving Gros, and Enjolras Leblanc is going to coach me. Would you just answer?’  
‘Oh, I think I know that one,’ said Mrs Grantaire, ‘That’s the pretty one you’ve been in love since forever.’  
‘Mom, would you stop that? I admire his skating, that’s all,’ Grantaire has heard her mocking him about his veneration of Enjolras for ages as if she could never get tired of that.  
‘A Frenchman, even worse,’ muttered his father, ‘How did you get into his pants anyway?’  
‘For the sake of all gods, I did not! Would you just answer my question?’  
‘Whatever, just don’t be too loud, you two. Don’t forget that we are your parents and there are things we’d rather not hear,’ the expression of Grantaire’s mother was slightly disgusted.  
‘Mom, why won’t you understand…’  
‘And he’s paying for his own food. Plus ¼ of the bills. I won’t stand another useless parasite,’ added his father.  
‘Flavio!’ his wife scolded him.  
‘Well, you both know what I think of this stupid sport. But what can we do if he’s good for nothing else.’  
Grantaire walked out of the room before they had a chance to say anything more. He called Enjolras to let him know, although he could still hardly believe he had his number.

Half an hour later, the skater was standing at the Grantaires’ door with his large suitcase. He didn’t show any sign of awkwardness, he was just smiling brightly. He refused to let Grantaire take the suitcase and looked around in confusion expecting to see the Grantaires.  
‘They won’t bother,’ said their son, ‘come on, let me show you around.’  
Grantaire’s parents were sitting in the kitchen. Enjolras smiled at them.  
‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Grantaire and Mrs... what is your surname, madam?’  
‘It’s Grantaire as well but please, just call me Giulia.’  
‘My name is Enjolras Leblanc. I am very thankful for your hospitality.’  
‘Yeah, sure. He told you that you’d have to pay, huh?’ asked Giulia’s husband. He didn’t bother to introduce himself.  
‘Yes, of course. It is an honour to be able to stay at your house.’  
Grantaire’s father shrugged in response.  
‘Does your family descend from France?’ asked Enjolras politely, ‘The surname sounds…’  
‘God forbid!’ Mr Grantaire’s voice was harsh. His son sighed and pulled Enjolras out of the room.

When they got to the guest room, Grantaire looked at him apologetically.  
‘I am so sorry for them. I’ll understand if you change your mind about staying here. I thought they would act better around a stranger…’  
‘It’s alright, I don’t mind. I’m really grateful for the opportunity to stay here’ trust me.’  
Grantaire rolled his eyes. He knew Enjolras was an incredibly good person when it came to social issues, but he never expected him to behave this way around him, let alone his parents, whose behaviour was, well, unconventional to say the least.

Throwing himself on his bed, he set his eyes on a poster of Enjolras lying on the ice. The skater would never pose in this way, still, someone who designed the poster did a damn good job. Grantaire thought that he’s been staring at his wall plastered with posters for five minutes, but when he heard the knocking on the door, it felt like waking up from a long sleep. It must have been Enjolras. Grantaire’s parents would never knock.

‘Do you need anything?’ he asked.  
‘Can I come in?’  
Grantaire was opening his mouth to say yes when he realized.  
‘One moment!’ he yelled, terrified and began to tear all his posters of Enjolras of his walls.  
‘Everything alright?’ asked Enjolras.  
‘Sure! Of course! I’m just getting dressed.’

Grantaire mentally did a facepalm. Getting dressed? Did he just imply that he had been sitting in his room naked? Great. Awesome.  
When he opened the door, Enjolras was standing there in fresh clothes and a bright smile.  
‘Feel like going out tonight?’  
Now Grantaire was in terror. Why on earth would Enjolras want to go out with him? Sure, he probably didn’t know anyone in town, but still, if he went on his own, he could easily meet a lot of people. They would probably chase after him even if he didn’t try.  
‘Um, I don’t quite feel like it?’

The next day, Enjolras was quite surprised not to see Grantaire’s parents anywhere.  
‘Don’t you eat breakfast together?’  
‘Why would anyone spend more time eating than necessary if they don’t enjoy their company?’  
‘So you don’t like them.’  
‘I meant them not enjoying my company, actually. The feeling is rather mutual but well… my father detests me and my mom well… she says she supports me, but she hardly cares.’  
‘It can’t be that bad.’  
‘Please don’t say that. I’m sick of everybody saying that. I think I know more about my life than you do.’  
‘I’m sorry, I never meant to…’  
‘No, I’m the one who should apologize for whining. I need to stop throwing these negative thoughts around.’  
‘Rene, you don’t have to filter the things you say to me.’ Enjolras’ look was genuinely concerned.  
‘Please don’t call me that. It reminds me of the announcers saying my name before I fail miserably in front of thousands of people and of that merry two you’ve met yesterday.’ Grantaire laughed bitterly. Why did he have to be so negative? Why did he do everything for Enjolras to start hating him on his first day here?  
‘How would you like me to call you then?’ Grantaire could not stand this polite and respectful voice. He knew how aggressively Enjolras could shout about his ideals and at the injustice in the world, and yet when he talked to people in private, he seemed way too kind.  
‘Everybody calls me R. Also, Grantaire, but that’s probably not the best idea in this household.’  
Enjolras laughed.  
‘About what I said later, I mean it. You don’t have to be careful when talking to me. I won’t judge you. You should have seen how I behaved around Lamarque.’  
‘Still, there things better unsaid,’ said Grantaire, ‘besides, me complaining would not be comfortable for either side, trust me.’


	2. Salchow

Grantaire was naïve by expecting Gros to care more about him leaving his coach. The man was probably no less disappointed with Grantaire than anyone else he knew. It was only a matter of time before Enjolras would leave him too. And after that, Grantaire was afraid, he would end up only using his blades to open beer bottles. He thought to himself that he shouldn’t be so dramatic. It’s not like he deserved Enjolras to coach him in the first place. Him leaving Grantaire would be just getting back to normal, and yet he couldn’t quite believe he could ever recover from the pain it would cause, unjustified as this pain would be.

After a couple of practice hours, Enjolras decided that Grantaire’s technique needed to be rebuilt from scratch. Being made to jump doubles and sometimes even singles felt humiliating, and Grantaire did not miss his chance to point that out.

‘So you’re telling me that you’ve seen potential in me and now you’re treating me like a five-year-old?’

Soon, Enjolras understood that he was wrong about R’s technique. He did not fail to understand any aspects, and he was not taught to perform his elements in an incorrect way. Still, there was something that made him look sloppy. Was it the lack of care he might have taken after his parents? Although that theory would make sense, Enjolras was sure it was not quite that.

‘It’s high time we started to think about your programs,’ he said about two weeks into their work together, ‘have you been thinking about anything particular?’  
‘Well, I do have some ideas,’ admitted Grantaire.  
‘I’m all ears.’  
‘So you know Stars, right? I skated to their song “Take Me to the Riot” at that show. They have another one that I like, and I thought it would be nice as some sort of a tribute… to you.’  
‘Oh?’  
‘The title’s “Barricade”. And since you’re coaching me…’  
‘Oh, a reference to my short from the last season! Did you like “Building the Barricade”?’  
‘Are you kidding? I loved it. I mean that dramatic step sequence by the end when the singing began? And the spin combo at the very very end? I tried to recreate it a couple of times, to be honest.’  
‘Wow, would you show me?’

R looked as if Enjolras just turned into a frog or something like that.

‘No way, I don’t intend to hurt your eyes’  
‘Come on!’  
‘Let’s just listen to “Barricade” and see if we can figure something out, how about that?’

Enjolras agreed. He was surprised how melancholic the song was, taking into consideration its title. To him, barricades were something exciting, something bringing hope and a medium to fight for a better world. That was what he had tried to convey in his last short program. ‘Barricade’ by Stars was very different from that. When he thought about it, it was the kind of music R usually skated to. Calm and sad. That was not what Enjolras would expect of a person like him. He had that messy look that made him think of fast and exciting music, of something energetic. He had brilliant expression and musicality and using it on the same kind of programs over and over again seemed like a waste of potential to Enjolras. ‘Barricade’ was not bad, though. When he thought about it, the song would be a great representation of their partnership. It referred to Enjolras’ rebelliousness while showing R’s signature melancholy. 

A few steps at the very beginning that would set the mood. Then a jump when the lyrics begin. Maybe a quad lutz? Then a combination spin. A camel, something else, then a sideways sit. And then a foot change. Next, a step sequence. A jump combination after that. A triple axel, an euler and a triple flip. God, it was hard for Enjolras to plan a program to such calm and slow music. But oh, the line ‘There’s only darkness at the finish’ begged to be followed by a quad lutz. Maybe they should replace the first lutz with a quad toeloop. 

Enjolras knew he was planning a challenging program. With R’s sloppiness of technique, it might not have been the best idea, and yet he could not bring himself to think of anything easier. He knew that if R tried hard enough, he could learn to nail the program, no matter how difficult they make it. He never let himself to do things the easy way. He intended to make use of his potential, and he wanted others to do the same. This especially applied to his new trainee. 

‘So, do you like work with some choreographers or something?’ asked R.  
‘You mean when I skated?’ Enjolras was somewhat surprised by the question. Of course, he used to work with choreographers, but that obviously was not the case anymore.  
‘I mean like now.’  
‘What would I need a choreographer for?’

Apparently, R suspected Enjolras of turning into a frog again.

‘So who is going to choreograph that program? My father? It’s not really like I can ask Gros for his…’  
‘What? I am.’

Oh. Grantaire did know that Enjolras choreographed come of his latest programs for himself. However, he would never believe that he could create one for him. What kind of a dream was he living in? He wasn’t sure what he dreaded more: staying in it or waking up.

Enjolras needed time to organize his thoughts and start planning the choreography. He put ‘Barricade’ on repeat and skated around attempting different moves, although since the beginning he seemed quite certain about what he was trying to create. He told Grantaire that he was free to go, but the man just took his sketchbook out of his bag, sat on the dasher board and began to draw. 

Being the only witness to Enjolras skating was mesmerizing. To Grantaire, every single one of his moves was like a whole story his body was telling, a whole message that would lead to making the world a better place. Before he realized, he had rough sketches of Enjolras in the exit position, in a camel spin and in an ina bauer. By now, Grantaire could draw him in any position without even looking, his collection of drawings of Enjolras was larger than he would ever admit to anyone. The experience, however, wasn’t the only reason Grantaire found him so easy to draw. His body resembled an example from a drawing book, the proportions were nearly perfect. Enjolras was tall for a single skater, he would be probably assigned to pairs, had he not been rather short until his third year as a junior. Grantaire did see him skating live before, but it was never quite like that. He never had his sketchbook with him, even if he did, he wouldn’t be able to look away from the skater. Besides, there were always so many people shouting and distracting him. This was different. There was nothing but the music, the ice, Enjolras, and his white skates.

Grantaire has never heard of any other male competitive skater that would use white skates. When Enjolras switched to white ones five years ago, the figure skating world went crazy. Grantaire wasn’t exactly sure why anyone would care about the colour of somebody’s skates that much but this was unprecedented. Enjolras explained his choice as a small symbolic rebellion against gender roles and stereotypes because, of course, he did. If he were younger, Grantaire would buy white skates for himself inspired by his idol, but at sixteen, when his career was at its peak, he fooled himself that the world would notice and accuse him of being a copy cat.

Looking at Enjolras move, Grantaire began to think of a costume for the program. He knew the cover of the album featuring the song, ‘In Our Bedroom After the War’. It was mostly dark blue with bright yellow accents. Dark blue was fine, he wasn’t sure about the yellow though. It would sure fit the album aesthetic, but the yellow would make the costume garish. He thought of red, Enjolras’ signature colour. Almost every of the skater’s latest costumes was either red or had red accents. Choosing red as the main colour would feel like copying Enjolras and making his ridiculous plan of making Grantaire his ‘heir’ quite obvious. However, a red accent would probably do. A reference but nothing too eye-catching. Now, the barricade thing. Despite the song being about some football things Grantaire didn’t really care about, barricades made him think of history. The program was supposed to be a tribute to Enjolras, and Enjolras was French. How about something inspired by the French Revolution? Grantaire didn’t want to go all out and make his costume look as if he was playing Robespierre in some historical ice show he was pretty sure never existed and never would. A little reference to the fashion of that time would be enough. 

Grantaire’s spent a lot of time studying the history of fashion, which was definitely a reasonable thing to do for a person attempting to and actually designing his costumes. Provided he wouldn’t end up as a drunkard in a gutter, which was not so unlikely, this might turn out to be a somewhat useful skill. Of course, his father thought the whole thing ridiculous and mocked him at every occasion, but it wasn’t like he had any hope left to ever make his son into something he would appreciate, so the comments were rather meaningless. They did sting, but at this point, Grantaire was just annoyed by them for the most part.

Going back to the design, Grantaire decided that the most subtle historical accent would be a period-inspired collar, however, those from Robespierre’s time were definitely out of question. Grantaire had no intention of performing with a thing looking like a bandage around his neck. Something else then. What happened when the bandage-like-collars went out of style? Oh! A thought occurred to him. The Revolution did not bring the French their freedom, not immediately. The fight continued, and fashion changed over time. Grantaire thought of the collars from the 1830s. Weird but that made them characteristic. They were also much more subtle than Robespierre’s bandages. Yeah, something like that might actually do. Grantaire began to sketch the collar. He was thinking about how dark blue with neither bright yellow nor red would quite fit the song when a head of blonde curls covered his view of the sketchbook.

‘What are these? God, R these are beautiful!’

‘Um…’ Grantaire felt awkward. Was Enjolras thinking him a freak for drawing him? ‘I was trying to get some ideas for the costume, and you know, it has to fit the music and the choreography, so…’

Enjolras moved his face from the sketchbook and was now looking at him.

‘It looks amazing. Have you ever thought of like designing a costume on your own? I know that’s probably a weird idea, but these drawings are just…’  
‘I have, actually. I’ve been designing my costumes ever since I moved to seniors.’

Enjolras looked as he could hardly believe.

‘You designed that gorgeous black one with the birds pattern?’  
‘You mean the “Goner” one?’

Enjolras nodded.

‘Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it gorgeous but yeah.’

Enjolras looked genuinely amazed.

‘I never knew. You’re even more special than I thought you were.’

Grantaire frowned. It was one thing to try and support one’s trainee but cooing over him was outright ridiculous. Was Enjolras trying to cover scorn? From what Grantaire knew of him, he was as far from being fake as one could possibly be but who could be sure? Grantaire tended to cause people to behave their worst around him.

‘I wish that I had known before,’ Enjolras continued, ‘I don’t know if you remember my costume for “Heal the World”, but in all honesty, I hated it.’

Of course, Grantaire remembered it. He remembered every single one of Enjolras’ costumes ever since his novice years. 

‘It wasn’t that bad,’ he said, ‘the cold colours might not have been the best choice for you, but you slew in it anyway.’

Enjolras laughed and rolled his eyes.

‘Your designs are subtle and elegant. That thing made me feel as if I was wearing the entire planet Earth.’

Now was Grantaire’s turn to laugh.

‘Have you ever tried designing for someone else?’ Enjolras asked.  
‘Yes and no. I mean, I did, but I never showed it to anyone.’

He didn’t mention all of the designs he made for Enjolras. In fact, he had three versions of a redesign for the ‘Heal the World’ costume.

‘You should, though. Your drawings are amazing, but the final products are even more stunning.’  
‘Well, it’s not like I sew them myself but actually…’ he hesitated for a while, ‘I’ve been thinking of becoming a skating costume designer after I retire.’

Enjolras’ eyes lit up.

‘Would you design one for me? I mean for some show, I am not coming back to competition.’

To Grantaire, that was an awful tragedy. Who retires at his prime at the age of 22? Enjolras had so much more to offer, so much more to show the world. And instead, he chose to waste his time with such mediocrity as Grantaire. At least, he thought to himself, this might make him reconsider and change his mind eventually. Had he decided to coach someone that was actually good, he might keep coaching. With Grantaire, it was just a matter of time before he would wake up. The thought was heartbreaking and comforting at the same time.

Once they got home, Grantaire locked himself in his room and began to work on the design. It took him much less than expected to figure out what he was going to do. He decided that the red accent would not go with the dark blue and bright yellow and that there was just no way of making it work. He thought that simply the name of the program would be enough for everyone to understand that it was clearly a tribute to Enjolras. The white shirt with the 1830s-inspired collar would be tied at the neck with a bright yellow ribbon doing the job of referencing the album. The sleeves of the shirt would be loose, which was very typical for men’s figure skating costumes. The shirt would be overlaid with a dark blue vest matching the colour of the trousers. For a while, Grantaire considered making the trousers ombre – fading from dark blue to white so that he could add white skates covers, but he gave that idea up. That would make the design overly complicated. Besides, he wasn’t too fond of the white-bright yellow combination.

When the design was finished, Grantaire rushed to Enjolras’ room. The man was sitting there, several empty cups surrounding him, as he was frantically typing on his laptop.

‘Thought I would wake you,’ Grantaire said.

Enjolras looked at him with a dumb expression in his eyes. Grantaire could not help but find it adorable.

‘Nah, in all honesty, it’s rather hard to catch me sleeping,’ he laughed, ‘actually, I’ve been working.’

‘Working on what?’ Grantaire hoped Enjolras was not going to pull an all-nighter just to have the program fully planned for the next day. That would be utterly ridiculous.  
‘Things. Essays. Activism, you know.’

Grantaire was surprised by the answer, but he said nothing. He knew that Enjolras had always used his fame to spread awareness of the issues of the world and that he often delivered speeches at protests and sometimes organized his own, but Grantaire never imagined him writing alone at night, surrounded by half a dozen of empty coffee cups.

‘I’ve finished the design.’

Enjolras was genuinely surprised. Every time when he commissioned a costume, it would take at the very least two weeks for a designer to present him the first project. Grantaire has finished his in a couple of hours. Enjolras didn’t know much about fashion design, but to him, the project looked very refined.

‘It’s really beautiful,’ he said. I’ve looked up the album cover. This really conveys the vibe. Also the historical accent, I like it a lot.

R smiled to himself. In the dim light, he looked even more insecure than in the daylight. The bags under his eyes were emphasized, and the shadows on his face underlined his uncertain expression.

‘I mean it,’ Enjolras tried to assure him, ‘I might not know a lot about design, but I do know a thing or two about how judges take costumes into consideration.’

Grantaire nodded, but he was clearly not certain.

‘What have you been writing anyway?’  
‘You heard of the crisis in Yemen?’  
‘I don’t think I did.’  
‘I’m not surprised. There’s hardly any media coverage at all. Still, there is arguably the largest humanitarian crisis of all time. I’m writing an essay to sort my thoughts out. I’m posting it on my blog, and then I’m moving on to a speech which I think I might…’  
‘You have a blog?’  
‘Yes,’ Enjolras replied casually.

Grantaire was genuinely shocked. He thought there was nothing he didn’t know about his idol.

‘How come I didn’t know that?’  
‘This one’s actually kind of anonymous. I don’t really know why. I just felt like sharing something as… myself. Not that Leblanc guy, the champion in white skates, you know?’

Grantaire did not answer. Instead, he asked:

‘What’s its name?’  
‘Google “Make It a Better Barricade”. It should be there.’

Grantaire laughed at the name.

‘So that’s a recent project.’

Enjolras smiled. He was aware that R knew his programs and the seasons he preformed them in, yet it felt nice to talk about it in such a loose manner. The people who would talk about his programs were always either journalists or fans who could not say much more than just praise him. His friends, on the other hand, despite almost all of them being connected to the skating world, hardly ever mentioned anything of that matter. It was nice to talk with someone who did acknowledge his career and made it visible, and yet did not treat him like some god standing on a pedestal. That always felt incredibly uncomfortable.

Grantaire looked at his phone.

‘You realize it’s 3:30 AM already?’

Enjolras looked confused. He would never have thought it was already this late. But then, he hardly ever knew how late it was when he was caught up in working.

‘Didn’t notice. I think I got caught up in my work.’  
‘Same here. How about we both go to sleep?’  
‘You go. I need to finish this paragraph.’

Grantaire rolled his eyes. Much as he wanted to convince Enjolras to close his laptop and rest, he didn’t feel entitled to. The man knew what he was doing, Grantaire was not his mother. He wished he could do something to make Enjolras rest, but he knew that it was his coach who was in charge here and not him. Nodding, he returned to his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music mentioned:  
> Take Me to the Riot - Stars  
> Barricade - Stars  
> Building the Barricade - Les Mis, duh  
> Goner - Twenty One Pilots  
> Heal the World - Michael Jackson

**Author's Note:**

> Music mentioned:  
> Take Me To the Riot - Stars  
> Starry Starry Night - Lianne La Havas  
> On my Own - Les Mis, duh


End file.
